


Healing the Hurt

by the_Dread_Wolf



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Break Up, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:07:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Dread_Wolf/pseuds/the_Dread_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their relationship abruptly ends, Lavellan isn't the only one that needs comforting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing the Hurt

It was the night after he had returned from Crestwood that the first of their companions approached him. He had almost seen it coming from a mile away. Who would side with the heartless and mad apostate that broke the cherished Inquisitor’s heart? 

Footsteps came down the lesser used library steps late in the evening. Solas had thought most of Skyhold had gone to sleep by now, but apparently he was mistaken. He stopped reading the parchment in front of him but didn’t move from his chair. Only when the steps came to a halt just inside the rotunda did he let out a sigh. “I suppose you’ve come to lecture me?” 

“Quite the opposite, actually.” It was Dorian. The Tevinter walked further into the room and into Solas’ line of vision. “Do you have a moment?” 

He stared at Dorian, his gaze flicking across his expression before meeting his eyes. Sincerity was all he could read, along with a tidbit of discomfort. He could see no reason not to hear Dorian out – even though he still fully expected some sort of lecture. “Yes, I have a moment.” 

Appearing relieved, Dorian crossed over to one of the covered tables and leaned against it. His arms folded across his chest and he stared at him for a moment. Solas met his gaze steadily. They both were quiet until the Tevine cleared his throat. 

“I know what happened between you and Lavellan…” He started out, and already Solas could see what was coming next. _‘How could you hurt her like that? She trusted you and cared for you, and you just left her. You are despicable and an absolutely horrid person!’_

“Are you all right?” 

Solas felt all his thoughts come stuttering to a halt. He blinked and looked at Dorian to make sure he had heard correctly. Sure enough, Dorian looked as concerned as the question he voiced. He opened his mouth before closing it again, and then looked away. It was needless to say he hadn’t been expecting worry to be expressed for _him._ “Shouldn’t you be asking the Inquisitor that question?” 

“I already have,” Dorian replied and drummed his fingers against his arm. “But I’m also asking _you_ , Solas. I have extremely high doubts that Lavellan is the only injured party here.” He tipped his head forward, an invitation to speak. “So are you all right?” 

Solas was quiet and, for a moment, at a loss for words. The level of concern he was receiving was… higher than he had anticipated. And by that he meant he hadn’t expected any. Everyone had been focused on the Inquisitor once she had returned. He had thought that no one had even spared him a glance – and if they had, that it had been similar to a seething glare. He looked down at the parchments strewn across his desk, at his folded hands, and then finally, back up at Dorian. 

“I’m… fine, Dorian,” he eventually answered, the lie bitter in his mouth. The mage across from him didn’t look convinced. Honestly, Solas didn’t blame him. Even his own words sounded false to him. He took in a deep breath and then mustered a thin-lipped smile. “But I appreciate your concern. Thank you.” 

Dorian’s brows furrowed together as he stared at Solas for a moment longer. But eventually he resigned to himself that he wasn’t going to get anything more out of him. “Don’t mention it, Solas.” He pushed off from the table and started for the stairs once more. Before heading up, however, he paused in the doorway and glanced back at him. “If you ever do feel like talking, I’ll be in the library.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Solas murmured as he watched the Tevine vanish up the steps.

* * *

The next day around midday was when the second of their companions approached him. The Inquisitor had headed out, taking three others with her and leaving the rest to remain here until she returned. He had hardly expected being among those chosen to come with her and thus had begun to plan out the last piece of artwork for the rotunda. But as he was bent over his sketches, he heard the rap of meaty knuckles on wood. 

Solas turned and saw Iron Bull standing just in front of the doorway. He had a box under his arm and a small frown on his face. “Uh… Hey there. Got a minute?” 

He straightened up and frowned as well. “That depends. What do you need of me?” 

Iron Bull walked over. “Word is you haven’t been feeling the best, so I figured you could use something to distract yourself.” He pulled up a second chair and placed it in front of his desk. Sitting down heavily, he then set the box down on top of all the sketches Solas had been musing over and opened it. Inside was a chess board and hand-carved wooden pieces, half of them stained a darker color than the rest. 

Solas looked at the Qunari incredulously. “You wish to play chess?” 

“Hey, I still need to kick your ass to make up for that last game,” Iron Bull pointed out as he set the board on the table and began to put the pieces into place. He glanced up at him. “Are you game?” 

Since the board was covering his sketches and he doubted that he would get Iron Bull to leave, Solas sank down into his chair. “I suppose.” He helped him set up the remaining pieces and then they began. He had the lighter pieces and thus moved first, shifting his knight to a square. 

The two played in silence, moving pieces and taking them off the board as they were captured. The only break was when they each paused to contemplate their next move. It was well into the game before Iron Bull spoke up again. 

“How are you holding up?” He asked as he slid a pawn to A-4. Solas lifted his eyes from the board and blinked out of his pensive stare before absently sliding his rook to F-8. 

“What do you mean?” He replied cautiously, although he already had a hunch on what this was about. Of course now that Lavellan was gone people would try to talk to him and pry out information – if they hadn’t already had their fill on rumors. He had expected Iron Bull to at least be above that. 

Iron Bull sighed. “Look, I’m not good with this…” He waved a hand around in a circle. “This _talking_ thing, okay? I’m used to hitting things to get my feelings set straight. But since you don’t seem the kind of guy to do that I thought…” 

“You thought a game of chess would be better?” 

“It’s working so far.” Bull shrugged his massive shoulders. “I can understand if you don’t want to actually talk about it. Whatever went down between you and Boss must’ve hurt, though.” 

_You couldn’t possibly imagine._ “You’re right, Iron Bull. I don’t feel like talking about it.” 

“Fair enough.” He nodded his head and moved his rook all the way across the board to G-7. “Let’s keep playing then.”

* * *

On the third day Solas came back down from the library and found a plate with a small fancy cake set upon it. It had three thin layers of icing and strawberry bits, with more of said frosting dropped on the top with half a slice of strawberry nestled within it. He recalled seeing similar cakes at Halamshiral. They had been delicious. 

He didn’t know exactly who placed it there, but if he were to guess it would have to be the advisor Josephine. Solas sat down and pulled the plate towards him, determining whether to eat the small cake or not when Varric walked in. 

“Ah, Chuckles!” He greeted with his arms spread wide. “Just the elf I was looking for!” 

“Greetings, Varric,” Solas replied with a faintly quirked brow. “What can I do for you?”

A toothy grin spread across the dwarf’s face. “Oh, am I glad that you asked.” He made his way over to his desk and placed his hands on the surface. “You see, I heard from our mutual bearded friend that you can play a mean game of Wicked Grace.” 

“I might be capable of playing it,” Solas responded slowly with a steadily deepening frown. 

Varric clapped his hands together. “Capable is all I need! The rest of us unfortunates left behind at Skyhold are planning on playing a big game of Wicked Grace tonight. You should join us, Chuckles.” 

This wasn’t the first time this sort of invitation had been extended to him. Awhile back Varric had asked him to join, and he had declined with the excuse of not knowing how to play. But now that he did, that excuse was no longer valid. Solas glanced at Varric and took in his eager expression. Joining them couldn’t hurt…

“I’ll consider it, Varric,” Solas eventually answered and picked up the cake from its plate. 

“Fantastic!” Varric turned around and headed out of the room, waving at the elf over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later, then, Chuckles!”

* * *

Despite how they were short around two other players, the table was still incredibly crowded. Varric had apparently gathered all that were still in Skyhold, somehow managing to get even Cassandra to join them. Solas was squeezed in between her and Josephine, silent amongst the chatter between them all. 

He hadn’t expected a turnout like this when he showed up. It had taken a lot of consideration to even consider going himself. But now that he was here…

“I see you’ve come to reclaim your dignity, Commander,” Josephine greeted as Cullen sat down across from them. 

“I’m not going to let you best me again, Lady Montilyet.” Cullen rotated his shoulders and smirked a bit, a corner of his mouth quirking upwards. “I’ve been _practicing_.” 

“Oh, have you now?” Josephine didn’t look impressed as she folded her hands together in front of her. 

Varric leaned slightly forward in his seat and whispered to Solas and Cassandra: “Ruffles got Curly good last time. Watch out for her. She’s good at this.”

Cassandra frowned at him. “I won’t be playing for coin, Varric. I only came to end your persistent requests.” 

“Seeker, you’re telling me you didn’t come for the joys of a friendly game?” 

Solas leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers together quietly. He was not used to this. The most that he usually saw of them all was when he travelled with the Inquisitor. To see all of them sitting around him so casually was an unusual but somewhat refreshing change. None of them were decked out in armor and the atmosphere was light – pleasant, even. 

The last person to join them was Sera, who came sprinting down the stairs and practically leapt into the last vacant chair next to Iron Bull. “Right, now who’s gonna deal us all out?” She asked, tipping her chair back onto its back legs and looking around at them all. Her nose wrinkled a bit when she saw him but she didn’t say anything. He felt his stomach twist a bit. Hopefully no one decided to say something to him tonight. He had been lucky with Dorian and Bull. It was all he could hope that everyone else would let it be. 

“I’ll get us started,” Varric answered her, pulling out the deck of cards from his pocket and shuffling them together. As he divided up the cards between them all, Bull pulled out a handful of silvers and dropped them onto the table. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about tonight,” he confided in a not-so-hushed whisper to Sera, who snickered and placed her own handful of coins onto the table. Solas pulled out his pouch of coins and plucked a few silver pieces from it. He had no idea how everyone else seemed to have so much coin – and he almost didn’t want to know. 

Josephine finally seemed to take notice to him, her eyes widening as she looked at him and a surprised “oh!” escaping her. “Solas, I had no idea you played Wicked Grace.” 

“I don’t usually,” he replied. “I’ve only played a few times – and never in this large of a group.” He set down three silver pieces onto the table and pushed them forward so that everyone was aware he had put in his bet. “I take it that this is a regular thing for you?” 

“Oh, no,” Josephine smiled modestly. “I only play every now and then. Everyone else seems to try to do this every week.” 

“I see.” Solas looked over at Sera and Bull – who were laughing at what appeared to be Dorian’s expense, as he was giving the two a slightly soured look. He wondered how much he was missing out on by staying in the rotunda most of the time, only emerging for food and to venture out with the Inquisitor. 

He shook his head. _No, it’s better this way._

“All right, now that everyone’s dealt out,” Varric spoke again. “We can get started.” He fingered the cards in his hands and grinned toothily at them all. The game started with little event at first, everyone getting their hand situated before doing anything risky. But as the game went on and the drinks started to appear, their conversations became a lot livelier. 

“… And then the guy says, ‘You didn’t have to _kill_ them!’” Sera yelled in a grin, mimicking a terrible Orleasian accent. “But excuse me for friggin’ covering my arse! He shouldn’t have sent the poor bastards after me!” 

Bull took a swing of his drink before asking: “What did you do then?” 

“I left, of course!” Sera shrugged and grabbed a card from the deck. “Wasn’ gonna kill him. The pissbag wasn’t worth the arrow.” 

“He probably ended up dead anyhow, considering you got shot most of his guard and he had several angry servants waiting for him.” 

“Yeah?” Sera frowned into her cup. “I guess he did.” 

Solas shook his head and glanced down at his hand again. Not the best hand, but he was certain it was better than most others. Dorian had touched his moustache meaning he had only one suit at best, and Sera was fidgeting less, so he suspected she had either a great hand or no matches at all. He couldn’t tell if Josephine had a good hand or not – her smile was unreadable. 

“Too bad that the kid isn’t here,” Varric suddenly chimed. “He usually enjoys listening to these sort of stories.” 

Solas looked over at Varric in shock. “You let _Cole_ play Wicked Grace?” 

“Not ‘play’, exactly,” Varric replied as he drew a card and discarded another. “We invite him so he can watch. Let’s him be a part of things, you know? He has fun. Likes listening to all the stories we tell.”

Although not sure if he should approve of letting a spirit like Cole join in on games of Wicked Grace, Solas was at least glad to hear that he enjoyed himself. “Do you invite him to join often?” 

“Yeah, he usually sits in on every game.” He glanced up from his hand and winked at Solas. “You’re welcome to join these more often, too, you know. I doubt anyone is going to object.” 

_You would be surprised._ “I’ll consider it. This is…” Solas frowned a bit. “not something I’m used to.” 

“Oh, Chuckles, both you and Seeker need to get out more!” 

“I’m sitting _right here_ , Varric,” Cassandra stated between them, and Varric laughed. 

The card game went on for another hour before the Angel of Death card was drawn. As suspected, Josephine had the winning hand and consequently raked in a decent pile of silver coins. Solas joined in on the second round with some hesitance, taking heed on the story Varric had told him about how Cullen lost nearly everything when playing against Josephine. 

When they finally finished up the next round, the candle stubs lighting the room had gotten short and everyone was ready to turn in for the evening. Solas – now short a good handful of coins – got up from his chair and turned to leave. The scraping of a chair against the floor sounded out as Varric got to his feet to follow. “Hey, Chuckles! Wait a second.” 

Solas stopped and turned to look down at the dwarf. Varric reached up to put his arm on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” Solas answered as he glanced back over at the table. Sera and Bull still lingered, finishing their drinks, and Dorian was helping a humbled and defeated Cullen recover some of his dignity. Josephine was still putting all her newfound riches into her purse. 

Varric smiled. “Maybe next time you can join us when her Inquisitorialness is here.” 

He tensed a bit and Varric seemed to feel it under his hand. “Look, Chuckles, I know you two were close. And I don’t know your reasons for ending it the way that you did, but you shouldn’t keep your feelings bottled up. It’s not healthy.” 

“Funny that you would be the one to lecture me on that.” 

“Hey, hey, it’s not a lecture,” Varric corrected him. “It’s a fact.” When Solas looked unconvinced, he sighed and shook his head. “Look, even Lavellan is concerned about you. After she stopped being _as_ upset, she asked some of us to check up on you. I mean, we were going to anyway, but she wanted to make sure that was did.” 

Solas didn’t respond this time, staring down at Varric and feeling his heart constrict in his chest. He knew that he had hurt the Inquisitor, but to hear that she was also worried for him instead of angry… 

“Thank you, Varric. If I feel up to speaking about this then…” Solas took in a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. “Then I will come find you.” 

The dwarf patted his shoulder a few times before stepping back. “Glad to hear it, Chuckles.” He turned around and headed back over to the table, yelling for Sera and Bull to stop running up his tab. Solas lingered for a moment, lost in his thoughts, and watched absently as their communications advisor walked past. But right before she left the tavern, he straightened up and turned.

“Ambassador Montilyet!” Solas called out, and Josephine stopped, looking back at him with surprise. He faltered, hesitating for a second before clearing his throat. “Thank you for the fancy cake. The one that you left on my desk. It was delicious.” 

She stared at him for a second or two. But then she smiled kindly. “You’re quite welcome, Solas. Make sure to thank Leliana as well. She had one of the kitchen servants prepare it specially.” 

Solas nodded. “I will do that.” 

With a smile on her face, Josephine left, and Solas stood in the tavern for a minute longer before leaving as well. He headed back to his rotunda, and instead of going over the sketches, he retreated straight into his dreams.

* * *

It was two days later, when the Inquisitor came back to Skyhold, that he finally was approached with the conversation he dreaded. Solas had been finalizing the plans for the rotunda’s artwork, examining the wall and determining when would be a good time to start when he heard her approach. 

Her footsteps were soft, the familiar sound of bare feet on stone, and it caused his breath to catch. He had been bracing himself for this conversation but now that it was upon him he knew that he wasn’t ready for it. 

“Inquisitor,” Solas greeted her coolly, and it was so painful, but he turned around to look at her. “The final battle is approaching. Is there something you would like me to do to help you prepare for it?” He knew that wasn’t why she was here. But he felt willing to do anything to delay this talk.

Lavellan stood across from him, her arms folded in front of her and her hands curled into fists. He could see it on her face; she didn’t want to do this anymore than he did. But it was necessary. “No. I’d like to discuss what happened before, Solas.” 

“I’m… afraid that wouldn’t be appropriate at this time. We must focus on what truly matters.” He turned his head away from her and looked at his most recent frescoes on the wall. He had stared at it countless times before and had it memorized to heart, and now he looked at it as if he wished to study every little detail. 

From the corner of his eye he could see her stiffen. “Explain why, Solas. Please.” 

“I can’t. You know this.” 

He knew he was frustrating her. There was a crinkle in her brow and her lips were turned down at the edges. It hurt to see her like this, just as it had to walk away from her at Crestwood. He was such a selfish fool. 

“Then… at least tell me if you’re all right.” 

His heart stuttered, and after a second of hesitance, he finally looked at her. Those beautiful eyes of hers drew him in, and once more he wanted to confess everything to her; to pour his heart out and tell her all the things he had done to get to this point. But he steeled himself. She didn’t need to be burdened with his mistakes; his sins. 

“I don’t wish to trouble you any further, Inquisitor.” Just as when he ended it between them. There could be no more distractions, and he could no longer be selfish. But again, his words hurt her, and it pained him more than she could ever know. Lavellan stared him down for a long moment, and then she turned away. She left, and he didn’t move from the spot for what felt like centuries.

Only when he was certain that she was gone did he take in a deep breath and move his heavy feet. He carried himself out of the rotunda and over to Varric’s table. He was writing letters but immediately stopped upon seeing Solas. He stared at the dwarf for a moment or two, before smiling, the gesture not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Do you have a moment to talk, Varric?”

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't exactly sure where to go with this. I'm pretty sure it's considered a drabble, but I still like it enough to publish it. 
> 
> I definitely think that Solas was hurting just as much as Lavellan was after their relationship ended. If not more so.


End file.
